THE COLOR PURPLE
-.- I want to ask the destination:
way wind listening;
speechless rain, storm
up when you want ...
I stop the shade at this shelter
intolerable.
As I get up and read in a couple of newspapers:
the same blood with his face smashed.
call it violence, gender,
a way through the heart into the air, bite shell
soul, blood
oxidized
roar of all the seas rise. Violence
man-
from any angle or view.
Gore, the color of blood
violet. Violet
lips violated.
As the flower closes,
of that color, so old
with that pain so dying
without a word. I ask
destination:
speech that way.
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